Just before 8:00am, we watched Amarillo and its cool
morning air converge to nothing from our rear view mirror. The road was good
and the fields to either side of us were as flat as anywhere. After an hour the
sun began following us as it rose above the horizon.
Back home in Ohio, the sun at the eastern horizon would be kissing the morning dew; here in the bone dry Panhandle of north Texas, it was not an issue. An hour from Amarillo we crossed into New Mexico. I am always amazed when I cross a state border. Invariably the ground changes in a not-so-subtle way, signaling the arrival of a new political entity. In this case, the pancake flat earth gave way to the buttes and arroyos for which New Mexico is known. One hundred miles later, the buttes morphed into the mountains that garnish the north and east of the capital. It was just after the noon hour in Albuquerque. In 1969, I made my first pass through this enchanting city. It had half the population that it does today. Beyond the capital the ground returned to a relaxed state much drier than in the east. At Holbrook, AZ, we turned south on state route 117 for a few miles until its junction with US route 60 at the town of Show Low. We turned right in the direction of our evening stop, Globe, AZ. The sixty miles of pine covered mountains from Show Low to Globe will likely turn out to be the most scenic of the trip. Most of those miles ran through the Fort Apache Indian Reservation.
Back home in Ohio, the sun at the eastern horizon would be kissing the morning dew; here in the bone dry Panhandle of north Texas, it was not an issue. An hour from Amarillo we crossed into New Mexico. I am always amazed when I cross a state border. Invariably the ground changes in a not-so-subtle way, signaling the arrival of a new political entity. In this case, the pancake flat earth gave way to the buttes and arroyos for which New Mexico is known. One hundred miles later, the buttes morphed into the mountains that garnish the north and east of the capital. It was just after the noon hour in Albuquerque. In 1969, I made my first pass through this enchanting city. It had half the population that it does today. Beyond the capital the ground returned to a relaxed state much drier than in the east. At Holbrook, AZ, we turned south on state route 117 for a few miles until its junction with US route 60 at the town of Show Low. We turned right in the direction of our evening stop, Globe, AZ. The sixty miles of pine covered mountains from Show Low to Globe will likely turn out to be the most scenic of the trip. Most of those miles ran through the Fort Apache Indian Reservation.
As I type this we are in a Holiday Inn Express. It was
a short walk to La Casita East. The Mexican restaurant came recommended as one
of two places in town to eat. This is a coin flip that we lost.
This evening Jill sent videos so that we could share
in the joy the kids showed when they discovered a new family member residing in
their house. Ella’s quote was dear, “Will the puppy be here when I wake up
tomorrow?”
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